Page 67 of Riding Pine
There are a few murmurs as the younger players puff up and think about how that’s true. The season is still young; it’s only mid-November, and we’ve stormed back to win games several times. We’re not at our sharpest tonight, and it shows, but we can overcome this.
“This is our year, and we will lose some games, but we don’t deserve to lose this one. The Vipers never play clean games. We do!” My voice rises with conviction, and the mood shifts. They know I’m right. “Shake it off and come back strong. I’ve never believed in a team more than I believe in this one.”
Burnsy raises his Gatorade in my direction. “I second that. Let’s kick ass in the third!”
Most of the guys nod as they go through their intermission rituals, and I’ll take it as a win. As I’m about to sit down, cheers so loud they’re heard in the dressing room carry over from the rink. It has to be because Ben is on the ice.
“Wow, what’s going on out there?” Youngblood asks as he looks at the door.
“Let’s go see,” I say as I pull my jersey back on before yanking the dressing room door open. Is it the usual routine? No, but neitheris this game. Youngblood and a few other players follow me as we stand in the hallway just off from our bench with a view of the ice.
Ben has just arrived, and he slips and slides around the ice as the announcer prompts him.
“Slappy, our Aspens are having a tough game. Can you help us get back on track and send the team your positive energy?”
He nods like a bobblehead and gestures for everyone to watch the ceiling. His rainbow-dyed silk flutters down, and my breath hitches. He didn’t tell me he could do a silk routine from the fucking rafters.
Ben makes a show of removing his tail and carefully laying it on the ice before sitting in the silk like a swing. The silk moves up a few feet, and once it stops moving, he bounces on it before giving a thumbs up.
“You’re in for a treat this afternoon. Slappy told me earlier that this routine was designed specifically for the Aspens and to bring them luck. Take it away, Slappy.”
A very energized dance tune fills the arena, and he claps as he gently spins to urge the audience along.
“What the hell?” Soupy bumps into my back as he peers over my shoulder. “This is what our mascot does at intermission?”
“Apparently,” Burnsy replies. Sneaking a glance his way, he’s focused on Ben with a smile.
A quick peek over my shoulder reveals eight teammates have followed me out to watch. Ben launches into a routine I’ve not seen yet. It’s fast and heart-stopping as he twists and pulls himself several feet above the ice in the brightly coloured silk. With every rise of the music, he shoots his body out of the material likean arrow and pumps his fist in the air. The crowd loves it and automatically shouts,‘Aspens!’
Even if it wasn’t Ben out there, I’d be inspired. Knowing he’s doing this for the team both fills and breaks my heart though. The music heads to a finish, and Ben has himself twisted in the fabric as far as he can go, and I hold my breath. He knows how I can get hurt, but we’ve never talked about the risks he takes.
In a heart-stopping whirl, he times the drop to the music, and on his final unravel, at least one person behind me gasps as he stops with a flourish. A single leg in the material is holding him from smashing into the ice. My breath whooshes out, and Burnsy discreetly tugs my jersey. Without looking his way, I nod.
“Jesus, that was intense.” A voice sounds behind me. “Fuck me, it would suck to lose after that show.” A rustle of bodies sounds as they turn back to the dressing room, and I remain watching as Ben has help on the ice to remove himself from the silk safely.
“Did you know he would do that?” Burnsy whispers, and with a quick look around to confirm it’s only us, I shake my head.
“I know he does routines and watch him at the studio, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that here. My heart was in my throat the whole time.”
“Me too. But he might have energized the team.”
“I hope so.”
If they can’t channel Ben’s performance into their game, it’s done something else for me.
The courage to speak to Coach about us.
We squeaked out a win in overtime, and the dressing room is full of chatter and congratulatory backslaps.
“Hey, Cap! Can we get the mascot to do that every game?”
“I don’t know, but maybe we can make a request. I’ll look into it.”
I don’t know if I can handle seeing him so high in the air at every home game, but he certainly helped the morale in the dressing room. We all fall into our usual post-game routines. Some of us pedal on the stationary bike to cool down or see the massage therapist for minor aches. Others just shower and dress before leaving.
I’m still on the stationary bike when Landon pokes his head into the room.
“I know you don’t think so, but great game today. You were a machine out there in the third. I wanted to make sure that cut doesn’t need anything before I go.”
